


The Loneliness of the Long Distance Traveller

by TiggyMalvern



Category: Trigun
Genre: Canon - Manga, Casual Sex, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 11:51:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20723759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiggyMalvern/pseuds/TiggyMalvern
Summary: When Vash first meets Wolfwood on the bus, he's not expecting to get propositioned that night. He's not expecting what comes after that either...





	The Loneliness of the Long Distance Traveller

**Author's Note:**

> This one's Renet's fault. We discussed it, I thought she should write it and she thought I should. I caved first.   
Thanks to Nico and Ms Anon for the betas. Originally posted 29 October 2005.

He hated bus journeys. 

The seats were never tall enough, the top of the backrest always digging in half way up his spine. That was a big part of the reason he was still awake, unlike just about everyone else on board. 

Not that he ever slept well surrounded by strangers. Asleep, he turned out to be too much temptation for some people, in the nasty, bullet-filled way. 

At least no-one this trip was a chronic snorer, apart from the one guy three rows down, probably. He'd fired up a couple of times, but his maybe-wife elbowed him sharp in the ribs right after and he shut up. The driver was silent too, switched off within seconds of pushing his ear plugs in, obviously used to snatching naps during the obligatory rest stops. There were only the soft sounds of breathing, the occasional rustle of cloth as someone shifted, the few solitary ticks from the engine as the last of its heat drained away. 

The quiet was more than welcome after the kind of day it had been. Nothing dramatic by his standards, just constant background chatter and bumping along on shocks past due for replacement, the journey tedious and unpleasant. For the most part. Vash let his eyes slide sideways towards the man sitting next to him. The man who could easily have died. 

Wolfwood was looking right back at him. Wolfwood wasn't skirting around with peripheral vision, he was just staring. 

Vash didn't much like being stared at. Not by someone like Wolfwood. 

"That coat. What's it made of?" Wolfwood asked abruptly, quietly, showing a deference to the sleeping people surprising after his earlier volume. "Don't think I've seen one like it." 

Vash blinked once. "Um, I don't really know myself. It's just something I picked up along the way." 

Wolfwood's expression slid smoothly into a smirk. "You mean you stole it." 

"No!" He quashed the rising, indignant note in his voice before he continued. "I found it. In a crashed ship where the Plants had all died, packed away and covered in dust. Must have been there for years. I don't steal, I'm not that kind of guy, you know." He gave Wolfwood a wide, brilliant smile to show just how harmless he was. 

Wolfwood's gaze moved down along Vash's body to where his coat-tails curled on the dusty floor by their seat. "Lucky it was made for a big guy. Not too many around built that way." 

Vash let his smile get even broader and more toothy. "Well, there's you, for one." He looked Wolfwood over equally deliberately. 

"Guess so," admitted Wolfwood, with a slight shake of his head. "You gotta have wondered about it, though. Like where it came from. Lost technology an' stuff." 

Vash shrugged. "I used to," he said, sliding back into his preferred misdirection and near-truth. He did used to wonder about technology, back when he was a kid, before he knew it all. He gave Wolfwood a conspiratorial wink and switched his voice to a dramatic whisper. "A famed outlaw like me doesn't get to spend much time thinking." 

Wolfwood reached into his pocket for another cigarette, but made no move to light it. He turned it slowly between his fingers, looked around at the sleeping residents of the bus. "You wanna take this outside?" he asked, glancing back down at the cigarette. 

"Huh?" It was warm on the bus, if a bit rank with all these bodies cooped up after a day's travel through the suns. Outside would have turned distinctly cold by now. 

Wolfwood half-turned his head, eyes swivelling the rest of the way to look at him, confident. "You've been acting interested most of the afternoon. More since dinner." 

"I –" Yeah, he probably had. Hadn't even been thinking about it, just left his usual persona running while he tried to figure out what was eating him about Wolfwood. Or narrow it down some at least, because practically everything about the man was eating at him. Open and friendly had been Vash's own nature once, and the obvious sexual overtones he added now kept most people from looking any closer, kept him from having to deal with people on any other level. 

Wolfwood wasn't seeing the too-friendly oafish lech. Wolfwood knew exactly who he was, had known it on sight. 

He looked away from that long stare, shook his head. "It doesn't mean anything." Wolfwood already knew most of him was a front. 

Soft sigh of air from beside him. "I wondered," Wolfwood said. "Pity, though." Vash jumped at Wolfwood's hand on his leg, pressure through coat and leathers of fingers spread wide and slowly curling down onto the inside of his thigh. More than enough time to push it away as the grip tightened, and he didn't. His eyes were fixed on sun-darkened skin and chipped nails, the length of the cigarette still caught in that hand, the indentations in his coat-tail around each of Wolfwood's fingertips. "If it really doesn't," Wolfwood added in a far more satisfied tone, and Vash looked up to catch the edge of his smirk. 

Wolfwood knew who he was, and he was hitting on him. 

The hand on his leg moved a little higher. 

Not that Vash the Stampede getting hit on was entirely a first. Since July blew up, Vash had discovered that there really were all kinds of people. 

Wolfwood wasn't giving him those sort of vibes, though. No real tension in him, no obvious thrill at the dangerous outlaw, nothing to say he was even much impressed. He sprawled over more than his share of their bench seat, half-twisted to watch him, confident, the arm that wasn't sliding over Vash hanging casually over the back of the seat. 

Wolfwood had known who he was, and then he’d looked further. Wolfwood had seen something of _Vash,_ and he wanted him. 

And Wolfwood, his provocative half-smile, his close-up intensity, was making him hard, his cock shifting with blood and heat at the offer, at the thought of what he could do with this man. 

He tilted his head slightly, tired spikes of hair shifting across his vision as he assessed. "Maybe it does," he said. His hand moved to rest on the leg alongside his own, reflecting Wolfwood's touch, feeling the weave of cloth gritty with dust, and then the heat of the thigh beneath. 

Wolfwood's smile widened into a grin. "Good." His hand was gone from Vash's leg, slipping inside his own jacket to replace the unlit cigarette. And then he was gone too, pulling away from Vash's touch as he stood, making his way fast along the aisle to the door, noiseless past the slow-breathing passengers. 

Vash sat and watched him go. Everything he knew about Wolfwood told him the man was something different - different from who he claimed to be, different from 'normal', whatever that was on this planet. And now there was this sudden proposition to get him alone, with no guarantees the man wasn't planning to kill him. 

He rose to his feet and followed Wolfwood from the bus. 

It wasn't just his rapidly hardening cock. He liked Wolfwood, even if his idea of Vash buying him dinner included drinking half his cash too, and he wanted to believe that Wolfwood genuinely liked him. Enough for quick and dirty sex anyway. 

And if this was the time his instincts missed, he could deal with whatever was waiting. 

He pulled the door closed behind him as he jumped down from the step, sand sliding and grating beneath his boots. 

There were certain things Vash had expected from this. He hadn't expected Wolfwood to kiss him right outside the door of the bus. 

He hadn't expected Wolfwood to kiss him at all. 

Blunt, direct offers meant blunt, direct sex, straight to the point with blow-jobs or a quick fuck. It was how things went. Not that he thought kissing was bad. Kissing could definitely be good. Kissing Wolfwood would have been better if Wolfwood hadn't been so damn annoying about it, Wolfwood's lips dry and hard on his own, nose pressed into his cheek, pushing with tongue and teeth. But nothing he'd seen of Wolfwood so far gave any sign the man ever did subtlety. 

He slid his mouth away, pulling against the tight, resisting grip of Wolfwood's hands at his waist. "You've made your point," he said. "Now ease up, and enjoy it." And maybe his tone had been a bit too harsh, because Wolfwood's expression looked tight for a moment in the jaundiced light spilling from the bus. 

This time when Vash moved in, Wolfwood's kiss was gentle, almost tentative with softly reaching lips, nothing he would have expected from this man. But he'd been discarding assumptions about Wolfwood almost as fast as he'd been forming them all day, and the contrasts in him were an intriguing challenge. It had been decades since he'd met someone whose behaviour slid so fluidly through so many categories, who remained so resistant to Vash's study. Well, there was always Legato, his thoughts entirely shuttered by flat eyes and a focussed mind, but Vash felt he was better off not knowing what went on in his head. 

Vash took Wolfwood's kiss and guided it deeper now, a little more pressure, his hand sliding over Wolfwood's ass, pressing his hips to him. Wolfwood's tongue was right back with him then, pushing past his teeth and curling round his mouth just on the edge of irritating, and _that_ was more what he'd expected from Wolfwood after he'd called him, the message toned down but still there - he might be screwing Vash the Stampede, but Wolfwood wasn't going to be anybody's pushover. Vash felt like smiling, but kissing Wolfwood was better, even with the slightly too hard scrape of teeth over his tongue. 

Wolfwood's hands had found his own butt now, working beneath the coat tails, the leather transmitting the touch to his skin, the pressure of fingers, and that felt so unbelievably good after the months alone. 

It needn't have been so long, but everyone had a right to know what they were getting into. Sleeping with someone when even the name they called him was a lie felt wrong in too many ways, emptier than the purely sexual loneliness it eased. 

But Wolfwood knew, and Wolfwood wanted to taste Vash's mouth, to press his body up against him and into his hand. Even sex like this, casual and temporary, was a gift in a world where nothing lasted, where the suns blasted everything into sand. He slowed the kiss a little, softened it, taking the edge from it, and Wolfwood's pushing tongue was abruptly gone, just lips now, light and careful. 

The chill was sharp on his gloveless fingers, on his ears and over his cheekbones, the breeze stark after the warmth trapped inside the bus. Not freezing, not in summer, even at this hour, but a knifing contrast to the heat of Wolfwood's mouth, a heat that meshed with the heavy smoke taste of him and made it seem entirely natural. Vash had Wolfwood's jacket open fast and easy, his hand running over the cloth of his shirt and reaching through to skin. Wolfwood twitched at the first bare touch, then relaxed again as Vash's fingers shared his warmth, and pressed against him. 

The holster that stretched over Wolfwood's ribs was no surprise. Preacher or not, an unarmed traveller on this planet was just somebody's walking target, and most people carried as a deterrent. Not that Vash believed Wolfwood's gun was entirely for show - the man's eyes watched like someone who'd been trained well, or learned the hard way. 

The muscles taut beneath his fingers were no surprise either. He'd seen the struggle to get that cross up on top of the bus, had helped out a little, carefully, not too much. But he'd been watching Wolfwood move all day too, light and liquid. He wasn't built just for strength, and as Vash's hand explored the softly defined lines of Wolfwood's stomach, he wondered what kind of exercise a preacher would get from teaching at an orphanage full of kids. Wolfwood had muscles that came from use, not from deliberately working out. 

Wolfwood's fingers had reached for his own coat in return, tugging ineffectually at his buttons and clasps, and Vash took the opportunity free of Wolfwood's grip to step away. He let his eyes run along the yellow wall of the bus to Milly's distinctive shape slumped against a window, her cheek pressed flat onto the glass, hair spilled forwards along her jaw. He felt Wolfwood's gaze follow his own, and smiled at him. "Maybe we should try this without an audience." 

Wolfwood grinned back. "I'd never've figured a man with your reputation for the shy type." 

Vash whipped out his hand to squeeze Wolfwood's crotch, and let his smile widen to a leer as Wolfwood jumped some three iches at the sudden touch. "I'm not shy. But being arrested gets old." 

Wolfwood's composure restored itself after little more than a flicker, his smirk fixed right back in place. "I'll try and avoid it." 

Vash leaned in closer again, his eyes unblinking. "You plan on breaking many laws, preacher?" 

"Only the ones I don't like." The man was still smiling, not a breath of intimidation or guilt. 

"Just my kind of guy," Vash winked. "Come on!" He grabbed Wolfwood's hand, because Wolfwood had kissed him after all, turned and set off at a half-run through the clutching sand. He reacted so _fast,_ Vash never feeling the expected tug on his arm before Wolfwood was crunching along, holding the same pace slightly behind him. 

This had to be the weirdest pick-up he'd ever had. Darkened alleyways and dingy rooms usually featured, not floundering through the desert leading a man by the hand, light from the bus and low moons casting their shadows ahead of them. Wolfwood himself felt no less surreal, a man of so many blazing contradictions, so many puzzles, but someone Vash couldn't seem to stay tense around. 

Wolfwood certainly made long distance bus travel more interesting. 

He loosened his grip on Wolfwood's hand, and their hands stayed together. 

The air chilled him, cold on his nose as he pushed through it, lifting his feet high through the deepening sand. Wolfwood was equally sure-footed, matching the timing of his steps to keep it smooth. He led them past the first line of dunes and round another, where they wouldn't be fallen over by anyone who woke up and left the bus to take a leak. 

When he stopped and turned, Wolfwood was alert enough to put the brakes on before he went crashing into him, which was almost a pity, except Wolfwood was pretty good to look at too. The breeze pushed through Wolfwood's hair, his eyes deep shadows beneath, momentary watching stillness before Vash stepped forward and pulled them together. 

Kissing Wolfwood was easy, everything lining up in just the right way, no hunching down to reach, hips naturally meeting hips and sliding together, effortless. He had his hand right back beneath Wolfwood's shirt, exploring upwards along his ribs and across his chest. He was warm, and perfectly textured, his skin surprisingly soft over the obvious delineations of his muscles that felt so good beneath Vash's fingers. 

Wolfwood released his pleasing grip on Vash's ass, and went back to his interrupted task of fiddling with Vash's buttons. He really wasn't getting far without being able to see what he was doing. Vash took a step away and round, his back turned to the moons, and brought his own hand up to help him out, opening his coat fast and practiced. The night air crept right in to find the bare skin at his waist and by his shoulders, and he shivered slightly as Wolfwood moved closer again. 

Wolfwood's head dropped forward, breathing deep and slow at his chest. "Leather. Kinky," he said, his voice betraying the smile. "Smells good." 

"I'm amazed you can smell anything, the way you smoke." Vash made it as far as a half-smile, which Wolfwood wouldn't even be able to see. He reached for Wolfwood's body again, his fingers moving slow over his stomach, tracing the lines of him. The pressure of touch was there beneath his own coat now, and he felt Wolfwood's hand find the edge of the leathers, fingers starting to stroke along the skin over his ribs, and then the sudden pause. 

Vash let his own hand still, resting light on Wolfwood's skin. "I've got some scars," he said. 

Wolfwood studied him for a moment, thoughtful, slice of moonlight caught and reflected in his eye. "I guess you would," he said, then pushed back in, the hand exploring further round his waist, lips working on his. 

Tension ebbed from him, the inevitable awkward moment gone, and now he could simply enjoy this, Wolfwood's body, Wolfwood's touch, let himself want this very human contact. He played along with Wolfwood's kiss, once more edged with teeth and stabbing tongue, his thoughts following Wolfwood's hands on his skin. Big hands, fingers rough-edged on the unmarked areas of his skin still sensitive enough to feel it, but light and gentle as they wandered over the exposed parts of his body. His own touch moved to Wolfwood's nipple, brushing over it, and again. Wolfwood hummed low into the kiss, and his hands clutched Vash tighter. 

Wolfwood's tongue pressed in his mouth was getting a bit much, and he wanted to move this along a little anyway. Vash broke the kiss with a quick grin, dropping his hand to Wolfwood's groin and his head to Wolfwood's throat, nipping lightly at his collarbone since the guy obviously liked using his mouth a bit rougher. 

Wolfwood's whole body slammed tense, his head pulling back and his hands freezing hard on Vash's hips. Vash stilled himself in instant response. "Sorry, bad call," he said, apologetic smile angled for Wolfwood to see. 

Wolfwood's muscles unlocked against him, the rigidity gone just as fast as it had hit. Wolfwood eyed him consideringly, his face sharp and exposed by moonlight. "No, it's... okay," he said. "Just surprised me." He slid his hands around to Vash's ass, easing closer again, lowering his lips to Vash's skin. 

Wolfwood's hair brushed against his jaw, coarse and dust-dry, shifting with the breeze and Wolfwood's own movements. Wolfwood's lips played over his throat, soft, damp, leaving chill trails as he gradually sucked harder, first hinted press of teeth. 

Wolfwood didn't seem to have a mode between full-on aggression and oddly hesitant, and the repeated combination was edging Vash to some unpleasant conclusions. 

There was no question Wolfwood was keen, hands alternately sliding over him then gripping him tight, but he wasn't advancing any of this. He left all the progression to Vash, mirroring his actions soon afterwards, but making no real gestures of his own. 

Wolfwood was repressed. 

He wanted men, but wouldn't take the initiative beyond that first pass. He probably didn't do this often, the kissing too eager, too desperate to be really good. He likely felt better about himself afterwards if he could tell himself that it wasn't him, that the other guy made all the running and he just got sucked along. 

Vash thought he really shouldn't be surprised – the man was clergy, after all. Maybe he carried around that great big cross as penance for all his sinful thoughts and deeds. 

He sighed softly and drew back, Wolfwood's lips trying to follow until Vash put his hand out to stop him. A one night stand was no crime, but it felt a little sordid when he knew Wolfwood only wanted him because of that, that he'd only have sex with him in the sure safety of never having to look at him again and remember what he'd done. 

Vash didn't want to be a part of anyone's guilt. Guilt wasn't a good thing to have. 

Wolfwood's hands tangled into the fabric of his coat, holding him. "Where you goin'?" His voice was dark, deepened and roughened with the grating edge of sex. 

Vash looked him in the eye, smiling a little to take the edge off the words. "I prefer to sleep with people who won't hate me for it afterwards," he said. 

Wolfwood's eyes flickered wide, a moment of shock, before angling down, lines developing tight at the edges and around his mouth. "What the hell d'you mean by that?" Anger flashing through fast and dirty, and Vash had been seeing glimpses of _something_ from Wolfwood all day. Here it was, distilled, purer. 

He reached out, pinching the fabric at the cuff of Wolfwood's sleeve between thumb and forefinger. "If the religion stops you enjoying it, I'd rather not." 

Wolfwood's taut expression dissolved and shifted, something fast almost like relief, settling into flat resignation. "Not all churches and preachers think that way. I don't." 

Wolfwood wasn't lying. Vash had caught the man in half a dozen evasions and as many outright lies, from their early discussions and all through dinner, but this was fact, simple and starkly bare. 

At least Wolfwood didn't believe they were doomed to burn in hell as evil sinners. But he made no attempt to explain away the oddities and, more revealingly, made no demands as to why Vash had questioned him. His head dipped back to Vash's neck, avoiding the issue and Vash's eyes. 

There were worse ways it could have gone, much worse than Wolfwood's teeth and tongue drifting lazily over his throat, breath and touch warm on his chilled skin. Easy to relax, to let himself run with the desire, with the sliding progression of their actions, and decide that whatever Wolfwood's tension was, it was the man's own issue to deal with. Wolfwood's body pressed into him as Vash shifted their hips into realignment, his lips opening wider and wetter on Vash's flesh, no doubt that he wanted this, wanted Vash. He suspected, though, that Wolfwood hadn't been raised with such an all-embracing background. Childhood conditioning could be tough to throw off, even if Wolfwood had chosen to live with what he wanted. 

Maybe he'd been right about Wolfwood not being with men so much. The decision to accept himself could have been recent. That would explain some uncertainty, some hesitation, even from a man so brashly confident in everything else. 

He put his hand to Wolfwood's crotch and uncurled his fingers, sliding them slowly back and down along his erection. Wolfwood shivered against him, teeth pressing suddenly hard on his skin, and Vash grinned. Promisingly responsive. 

"Sorry." Wolfwood lifted his mouth away and hitched a breath, short, fast, licked his lips. "Feels good," he said. 

Vash found himself smiling, and _that_ felt good. "It is good," he said, and kissed Wolfwood again, because he could. 

Wolfwood's touch moved deliberately over his hip, seeking and then _finding_, Wolfwood's hand big enough to cover most of his length, and Vash angled forward into him, encouraging, wanting. The hand half-gripped him through the leather, working over him steady, the touch on him light. Wolfwood obviously wasn't one of the grab-and-squeeze set, which was good, but Vash liked a little more and arched his body to get it, pressure on his cock, stroking, kneading pressure.... 

He shifted his foot, opening his legs further to give access and rolling his hips up in invitation, wanting those fingers teasing over his balls. Wolfwood's hand moved with him, palm rubbing higher up his cock towards the head, hot, definitely hot, but not taking the hint the way he'd wanted. 

He ran his own hand lower over the press of Wolfwood's erection, his fingers seeking downward, sliding either side of the thick seam at his crotch. Down along the root of his cock to his balls, stroking over them through the cloth, the fabric smoother here beneath his touch, worn napless where it rubbed. He curled his fingers gently, pulling cloth up behind the taut curve of Wolfwood's balls, then drawing slowly forward again, Wolfwood shivering softly into the kiss in reaction. 

And yeah, Wolfwood followed his lead just like before, his palm rubbing over the length of Vash's cock as his fingers worked down over the leather, feeling, tracing Vash's balls and stroking over him right where it felt so fucking perfect. He rolled his hips slowly against the touch, breathed a low murmur against Wolfwood's lips, letting him know he'd got it. Drifting sex haze building in his mind, the pull of his body at his nerves and his nerves at his body, cycling, feeding, and it was pretty damn nice, kissing Wolfwood, feeling him, Wolfwood's touch on him in return, but he didn't intend this to stop at a bit of joint masturbation. 

Offering to suck a stranger required a certain degree of risk-benefit analysis, given the overall hygiene levels on the planet, but Vash had been around the place long enough to have developed a discerning nose. Wolfwood smelled of cigarettes, inevitably, and sweat, with an added note of bike oil, but he smelled like someone who'd taken a bath the last chance he got, not someone who didn't see the point when they'd only get hot and sweaty again. 

Vash's fingers were already working past the simple fastenings at Wolfwood's waist as he dropped to his knees. Pushing aside the layers of cloth to find him, his cock hot in his hand, dark in the moonlight. He looked up at Wolfwood, the man's hair fallen forward as his head bowed to watch him, shadows twisting over his eyes, obscuring. 

If Wolfwood was going to try and kill him, this would be a likely sort of time. 

Wolfwood breathed above him, deep and audible over the breeze, otherwise immobile. The tip of his cock was damp against his palm. Vash leaned in, exhaled air long and slow along the shaft, knowing the shock of that warmth against the ice of the night. Sharp, hissed in-breath, the twitch of Wolfwood's body there in the pulse of his cock against Vash's lips. 

Wolfwood's hand dropped onto his right shoulder, holding him, and the other – the rise of his elbow, angling away from his body at the edge of Vash's vision – the other was reaching into his jacket, and Vash's muscles were relaxed and ready, his fingers steady on Wolfwood's body, feeling for the tension before movement – 

"You wanna fuck?" Wolfwood produced a pack of condoms, holding them for Vash to see, angled to catch the moonlight. 

Vash felt the thud of it, the abrupt shiver of genuine lust at just how _much_ he wanted it. He didn't know if it was Wolfwood he really wanted, or simply the first genuine offer he'd had in too many months – he didn't count propositions from prostitutes as genuine – but it was here, and he wanted all of it. Even without knowing exactly what Wolfwood was offering, he wanted it. Drug-vivid images of fucking him slowly, Wolfwood's flexible body arching back onto him, of feeling Wolfwood over him, the cock currently pushing against his hand moving inside him, of losing himself in sex. 

He grinned up at Wolfwood, letting all the hungry enthusiasm show. "You got lube to go with those?" 

Wolfwood seemed to consider a moment before he answered. "No." 

"'S okay, I've got something." Gun oil was fine if it was fresh and clean quality stuff, and his always was. 

He leaned in, brushing his lips along the edge of Wolfwood's cock to the curl of hair at the base, inhaling the heavy sweat scent of him, darker here and untainted by smoke. Yeah, he wanted sex with this man, wanted it right now like he wanted to breathe, stroking his tongue up his cock along the pulse of his vein, moving to take the head of him into his mouth, Wolfwood shivering beautifully at his lips and hand. 

Wolfwood's grip dug tight on his shoulder. "Hey. I thought we were fucking." 

Vash pushed out his lower lip, let it slide wet and tense over the head of Wolfwood's cock as he pulled away. "You in some kind of a hurry?" 

Wolfwood paused, glanced over towards the bus, then up at the moons. "Guess not," he said slowly. 

"Then don't interrupt, just enjoy," he grinned. He didn't want to rush this, to waste it, not knowing how long it would be before the next time. He licked his lips again, the breeze sucking away moisture with the thirst of the miles of emptiness, and let them part around Wolfwood's tip, curling his tongue around the ridge below the head. Wolfwood's hand was in his hair now, fingers tightening and relaxing with Vash's movements along his cock, his breathing sharp and fixed to the same pattern. 

Yeah, Wolfwood liked this, what Vash could do for him, no question at all, which made his interruption seem kind of weird. Not many men would turn down a blow-job, even allowing for the urgency of actual sex to come. 

Yet Wolfwood had been wandering round the desert with condoms in the expectation of getting laid, but hadn't planned ahead to bring lube. Which carried the implication he'd been thinking more of women, so what the hell was he doing here with his hands all over Vash and insisting on fucking? 

Wolfwood choked out a soft, bitten-off noise, fingers suddenly gripping tight around Vash's hair and nails sharp on his skull. Vash locked his elbow where he held the base of Wolfwood's cock to prevent any sudden thrust of his hips, and wriggled himself down and free. "Damn, take it easy!" 

"Sorry." Wolfwood spoke through his breaths, a hitch in tone between syllables. His cock twitched in Vash's fingers. All of him hot, keen, exactly what Vash needed. 

"'S okay," Vash smiled. "I think you left me most of my hair. C'mere." He reached up to tug on Wolfwood's sleeve, drawing him down to join him in the sand. Wolfwood was way too close to the edge to carry on with the blow-job anyway. Vash wasn't willing to place any bets on recovery time with a man who smoked and drank that much. 

Wolfwood knelt watching him, eyes black in the full-on moonlight, chilled breath curling fast and short at his lips. Lust drawn all through him, but tension in the lines, in the fingers at Vash's shoulders and on his thigh, and Vash had confirmation of his earlier thought that Wolfwood hadn't done this much. He leaned forward and kissed him slow, Wolfwood instantly meeting him, arching in to touch. 

"Here." Vash pressed the bottle of gun oil into Wolfwood's hand. Wolfwood looked down at it, hesitated a moment, then curled Vash's fingers back around it. 

"You can," he said, fast and a little too sharp. 

_He doesn't know what to do. _

He'd suspected Wolfwood was repressed, but that didn't fit with the man who'd kissed him in full view of the bus. Wolfwood who kissed erratically, who reacted so hard to each touch and sensation, who followed Vash's explorations of his body with that exact sequence of moves on his own. Who knew just enough about sex with men to be carrying half of what he needed. 

Who didn't seem to have much of a clue about anything they'd done, from the start. 

He couldn't begin to figure out how the hell it had happened. Mid-twenties, attractive in a hard-edged, angular kind of way that worked for some people, confident and aggressively sensual – Wolfwood _must_ have been the subject of interest from someone he wanted before this. Vash couldn't have been the first. 

But he was obviously the first Wolfwood had taken up on the offer. 

Sometimes he had to wonder how the hell he got himself into these things. All he'd wanted was sex with someone who wanted him, uncomplicated and guilt-free, and now.... 

Wolfwood deserved better than this. Everyone deserved better than a quick fuck in the desert cold with someone they'd never see again. God. 

Wolfwood had stilled against him, fingers tight on Vash's arm. "Something wrong?" His voice was pitched somewhere between curious and demanding, and almost right. Almost. 

If he stopped this now, there'd be no explanation good enough to cover it, just Wolfwood thinking he'd screwed up somehow. 

"Nothing," he said, smiling wide so the moons would catch his teeth for Wolfwood to see. "It's all good." And it was, really. Wolfwood was, an enthusiastic body of tautly sculpted muscle pressed up against him, quick to take and apply everything Vash did to him, his touches smoothly controlled for the most part. Only rarely did he snag into clumsiness through eagerness, or involuntary reaction to some new touch from Vash. 

He’d have to take this slow, but he'd been doing that all along, savouring what couldn't last. For now, he simply kissed Wolfwood again, tasting the heat of him and coaxing, leading his tongue into moving gently, right, as he considered the logistics of this. 

He could lie back and simply let Wolfwood fuck himself, give Wolfwood the control. But Wolfwood might not know it didn't have to hurt, might think he just had to work past the pain, and he sure as hell wasn't the type to say anything about it, or to appreciate being given detailed instructions. 

Vash figured it was really down to him to get it right. 

Everything in the desert was so limited – he'd like to do this properly, with a bed, with some hint of intimacy. The only practical options out here were hands-and-knees and standing, and standing stank even more of a get-it-over-with quickie. Why couldn't Wolfwood have waited till tomorrow to make a move? Then they'd be in town, and he could do this the way he'd want to. 

He knew why it had to be now. Wolfwood knew this planet, knew death, abrupt and inescapable. The man could have died himself today, could have faded into the sand, unseen and unknown. With a decision made, Wolfwood wouldn't ever wait for what he wanted. 

Vash pulled his hips closer, kissed him harder, felt how swiftly Wolfwood changed to keep pace with him, matching him all the way in this. He slid his hand below Wolfwood's waistband, pushing downwards, lowering his clothes to his knees before he pulled back from the kiss. 

"I don't know what you like, sorry," he said with a quick smile. "I'll just go with what works for me, and you tell me if I screw up." 

"Yeah." Wolfwood's response was immediate, breathy, such a turn-on. _God. _

"You got those rubbers?" Easier to put it on now, before he got his hands all slicked up. 

Wolfwood was reaching into his pocket, handing him the pack. Opened, but none missing. 

Vash set the box aside in the sand while he opened his leathers, freeing his cock, delicious grip of his own hand and instant shock of cold on heated skin. He jerked himself a couple of times, fast, rough, to counteract the breeze, icy on him when he let go, and tore open a packet. 

Wolfwood's eyes flicked between the plastic at his lips and his cock. 

Vash pinched the tip of the condom closed, rolled it the first couple of times over his head, slow, enjoying the pressure of his own fingers. Wolfwood's gaze was fixed on the movement, his hands stilled on Vash's body. "Here, give me a hand with this." Wolfwood looked up at his words, and Vash took the tense fingers from his thigh and squeezed them on the end of the rubber while he slid it the rest of the way along his cock. Not quite his size, and not quite Wolfwood's either, a little bigger than either of them. Typical case of optimism. That made it a bit trickier, but then it didn't actually matter if the damn thing came off since Vash couldn’t catch anything. Wolfwood might not view it so casually, though. 

Wolfwood's fingers wrapped loosely around him, and ran down the length of his shaft over the rubber, meeting his own at the base. The movement was light and fast, touch shivering along his nerves from where their fingers curled together around him. "Mmmm, nice," he smiled, sliding his hand over Wolfwood's and encouraging him to do it again, Wolfwood gaining surety with just a couple of strokes. Yeah, _this_ he knew how to do, his fingers tightening, twisting and flicking slightly over his head, the action curtailed somewhat by the condom but still doing a whole lot of _great_ things for Vash. He left Wolfwood's hand to work him alone, reaching out and twisting his fingers into dark gritty hair, tugging Wolfwood in and kissing him hard. Heat in his mouth, heat coiled in his belly and down along his cock, Wolfwood's rhythm on his body a delight and a tease, a shaking, curbed tension. His hand slid through Wolfwood's hair, along the curve of his neck, felt the movement of the muscles down his spine beneath the cloth of his jacket. Down onto naked skin, _yes_, the tight lines of Wolfwood's ass and his thighs as he pushed against Vash, arching him back with the kiss. 

Vash reached around, lower, playing his fingertips over Wolfwood's balls. Wolfwood's body twitched perfectly in response, Vash using the moment to wriggle away from his lips and haul them both to sit upright again. "Great hands," he grinned. "Now might be a good time to get them down on the sand." His own voice was altered, desire shaping his words with sharp edges. Wolfwood stared at him, eyes utterly black, fingers still curled on Vash's cock. And then he _changed_ in a moment, drawing in a breath, his muscles sliding back to a lower level of tension, and Vash slid aside in the sand, eased Wolfwood forward unresisting to all fours. 

Vash let his fingers spread over the arc of Wolfwood's ass, push up below Wolfwood's clothes to drift along the ridges of his back. Right here, now, Wolfwood's skin beneath his hand, the lines of his muscles, the flex of his ribs with each long breath, this was what he wanted more than anything, the best thing he could hope to have. It was a chemical illusion, but one he’d take gladly, while it was here. 

He fished the gun oil from his pocket again, flipped open the cap and let it run over his fingers, cool and slippery. He dug the bottle into the sand, still open – he'd be needing more later – and ran his finger around Wolfwood's ass a couple of times, letting him feel the temperature, giving him warning, before he pressed in. 

Wolfwood tensed immediately, muscle instinctively tightening down onto his knuckle. Vash had done nothing more than still in reaction before Wolfwood began to relax again, lowering his head and breathing deep. 

One more addition to Vash's growing Wolfwood list – the man was practiced at over-riding the responses of his body, countering the signals of chemicals and nerves with will and training. Interesting, yeah; and it was going to make this a lot easier. 

He rubbed back and forth slowly over the muscle, letting Wolfwood adjust to that sensation, that steady friction, before he reached deeper. Even this was enjoyable, just the feel of Wolfwood around his fingertip, the heat after the cool of the oil, the shivering contractions of the man's body as Vash eased him open. He could wish for his other hand right now, the ability to distract Wolfwood by jerking him slowly, to get him to relax into the feel of it. 

Vash twisted himself around onto his back, still working his finger as he pushed with his feet to slide beneath Wolfwood's spread legs. He was going to get sand in his hair, and it would cling and itch till the next time he grabbed a shower, but fucking Wolfwood was going to be more than worth it. Fucking Wolfwood and having him love it. 

He curled upwards to lick slowly along Wolfwood's cock, his tongue twisting around the tip to taste the sticky dampness there. He tipped his head back to see Wolfwood's bent right down, watching. Wolfwood's eyes would be straining in the darkness, fighting past the shadows of his own body to make out the shape of Vash licking at his cock. Vash obliged him with another slow stroke, using the tip of his tongue, tilting his head back as far as he could to let Wolfwood catch the light from his eyes. 

He dropped back into the sand and felt _deeper_, pressing down, and.... 

Wolfwood arched, his head jerking upwards, his cock spasming hard and obvious. "Fuck, that's – again." Wolfwood's voice was rough, twisted, something _Vash_ had done to him, and the sand scratched at the back of his neck under his collar and he smiled so damn wide he wanted to laugh, but Wolfwood would take that entirely the wrong way. 

He reached for the oil in the sand, tilting it, slicking his fingers more. He curved upwards for the head of Wolfwood's cock, pursing his lips and sliding them down taut around him, sharp taste of pre-come on his tongue. He loved doing this, working, teasing, feeling the reactions of his partner, the sense of power it gave him. He could do this _well_, and when he crooked his middle finger, easing another fingertip into Wolfwood, Wolfwood was still there with him, relaxed and willing. 

Licking slowly along Wolfwood's cock, light, stroking more over the shaft than the head, careful not to go too far given Wolfwood's quick response earlier. Playing more than really stimulating. Wolfwood breathing above him, loud and ragged, short little pants as Vash rubbed rhythmically inside him, keeping the pace of good, slow sex until Wolfwood was pressing back onto him, body demanding more. 

And more was such a good idea. 

He could have offered to finish him with the blow-job, given him another chance to think, but he didn't have to. Wolfwood had deliberately set out to get laid, and he wouldn't back out of his decision. 

He wriggled himself out from beneath Wolfwood, pull of compacted sand beneath his coat resisting him. The wind tugged at his hair as he leaned forward over Wolfwood, letting his weight settle onto him. "Time to fuck," he said. 

"Yeah." Wolfwood's response instant and certain as he'd known it would be, the catch in his voice all from lust. 

He sat back and dribbled gun oil over the length of his cock, twisting his fist around himself to spread it over the rubber. Quick, slick touch of his fingers nice, but not as good as Wolfwood's hand on him had been. Nothing like as good as fucking him was going to be. 

And he was sliding into Wolfwood, slow, feeling no real resistance, Wolfwood absolutely still beneath him. Just the tip of his cock for now, then withdrawing equally slow, back and forth steady, encouraging the muscle to relax a little more, and Wolfwood shivered against him and was breathing again. 

Vash figured it was a damn good thing he was used to teasing himself – it took serious concentration to resist the sensations of it, the warmth and slide over the most sensitive parts of his cock, the slow friction on the ridge behind his head as he backed out. Keeping his breathing steady, holding his movements rhythmical, his hand on Wolfwood's hip feeling for tension, for any sudden change. 

When it came, it was the push towards him, easing him deeper, and the heat of it shocked through his cock to his belly, to his balls, to his brain, _god._ He froze for himself as much as for Wolfwood, needing the check on himself to adjust, to keep it together, his fingers tightening automatically on Wolfwood's skin. Inhaling long and deep, another, and okay, now he could move again, hold the slow pace, lengthening strokes that gradually let Wolfwood's body take more of him. Lengthening strokes until _there_, the resistance, the reluctance of Wolfwood's body to yield to that gentle push. That was his limit for this, most of him wrapped in Wolfwood, more than good enough for now. A stranger-fuck in the desert wasn't exactly the time and place to start coaching Wolfwood in how to relax his rectal valves. Sand got rough on the palms after a while. 

He withdrew slightly, just enough to lose that feeling of pressure at his tip, and slid his hand around Wolfwood's hip to his cock. 

Wolfwood wasn't hard any more. Shit. He hadn't lost it completely, but he was only half there, his cock curving slightly earthwards, and that didn't have to _mean_ anything, it just happened that way sometimes, but Vash really needed to know he wasn't screwing this up. 

He was still confident Wolfwood wasn't in pain, he'd been judging it so carefully, he'd have _known_. Maybe he'd been a little too careful. He hadn't actually done anything for Wolfwood's cock or his prostate for a while now, all his attention on not _hurting_ him. 

He was going to end up in the same state himself if he went on worrying, and then he'd have to do all that fiddly shit with condoms again. 

He gripped the condom at the base of his cock and pulled back half way. Pushed in once, slow, felt the tension shiver along Wolfwood's spine, heard the scratch of sand as Wolfwood's fingers curled deep between the grains. He stretched himself forward, breathing words towards Wolfwood's ear. "Something you like?" Keeping it light, teasing, and still giving Wolfwood the chance to play for space. 

Wolfwood's reply was instant, short through the gap in his breathing. "Quit yapping, and get on with it." 

Good answer. Vash grinned into Wolfwood's neck. "Always in such a hurry," he said cheerfully, reaching around with his hand to tease Wolfwood's cock, feeling it shift and harden back into his touch. 

"I asked you to fuck me, not play with me." 

Vash touched his tongue to Wolfwood's skin and curled it around. "Oh, I'll fuck you," he said, low and deliberately raw, and Wolfwood responded really nicely to that too, a sharp, cut-off quiver through the muscles beneath him. Whatever else Wolfwood was, he was beautifully wired for sex, his reactions immediate and obvious and overwhelmingly positive to just about any stimulus. The man seemed as fast and natural in this as in the way he flowed out of his seat, the way his brain slid along the sides of things and saw. He was enthralling and physical and _fun. _

Yeah, he was going to fuck him. 

He took his hand from Wolfwood's fully hard cock to grasp the condom again as he started to move. Steady, careful, feeling the shift in Wolfwood's body beneath him, the hitch in his breathing pattern, tensing and relaxing, not the tense and lock of pain. He had to stay together, curb his movements, because in this position he could go _deep_, and he wasn't going to wreck what he had now. 

Wolfwood was moving with him, finding his rhythm and matching it, smooth and even despite the tremors that shivered through him. Vash wanted to touch him, his skin, his cock, wanted to feel more of Wolfwood than the heat and flexing pressure round his dick, but his hand was stuck holding that too-large condom in place. 

He wanted to screw Wolfwood hard, fast, let himself go, let himself take this for all he could this one night it was here. He wanted to screw Wolfwood lazy and slow, make it last, tease it out until Wolfwood really _needed_ him. He wanted Wolfwood to remember this, remember him, didn't want to merge into the anonymity of Wolfwood's future opportunistic lays. 

Damn the rubber, it could take its chances. 

He reached around to Wolfwood's cock, his hand still slick, gripping him and letting his hand slide over him, once, twice, slow with his own thrusts. 

Wolfwood jerked beneath him and came, abruptly, no warning signs, no building tension, just his cock pulsing in Vash's hand and the hot, sharp scent of it. 

_Shit._ He should have known the risk, should have guessed it from how Wolfwood got so close so fast with the blow-job, and he'd just been too distracted to think.

He moved his hand lower, stroking soft over Wolfwood's balls, another shudder around him at the touch. Wolfwood breathed out long and slow as it ended, the pressure on Vash's cock easing, the muscles of Wolfwood's body relaxing against him. 

"Damn," said Wolfwood, the word drawn out in contrast to his usual fast, clipped speech. 

"Yeah." Vash grinned – it hadn't gone quite as planned, but at least he'd got the right effect. "You okay if I finish?" 

The slightest of pauses before Wolfwood said, "Sure," and Vash felt him brace again to take Vash's weight. 

Vash held onto the condom again as he pulled out half way, angling differently to avoid too much prostate over-sensitivity. He eased himself back in slowly, allowing for Wolfwood feeling it more without the distraction of being turned on and wound tight, but there was no change in the body curved against him, no tension beyond the counter-pressure to his own steady push. 

His fingers circling the base of his cock controlled his depth, and he didn't have to think now. Didn't have to hold his sensations back, work on pleasing his partner, didn't have to do anything but feel Wolfwood around him, the heat and the slide, the smooth friction along the length of him. Wolfwood began to meet him again, working with him, and that was nice, because he didn't have to worry about Wolfwood not liking it either, and he could go a little faster now, unleash himself a little more and take what he wanted, what he wanted, what he _wanted_, and he came, easily and beautifully, not a battle to hold it back or a strain reaching for it. 

He'd wrapped his arm around Wolfwood's ribs at some point, clutching him to him, and he released him now, tugging the jacket and shirt back down into place. He pulled away from Wolfwood and stripped off the condom, glad it had survived and he didn't have to start explaining things. Gun oil wasn't good for them. He toed it down, burying it in the desert, and wiped himself off. 

"Mmm, thanks," he said, flopping back into the sand. He was already covered in the stuff, a bit more wouldn't matter. "That was great." He wasn't just saying it for Wolfwood. 

"Yeah. It was." Wolfwood had cleaned himself up and rearranged his clothes. He looked away, over towards the bus, the giveaway hint of light above the dunes. "Guess I should get back." 

Vash wrinkled up his nose. "I'm in no rush. It smells and there's no room to stretch." The bus wouldn't leave for over another hour. He put his arm behind his head as a pillow, lay back full length. "Stay if you like, I don't mind." 

Wolfwood dropped down beside him, resting propped on one elbow, and flashed him a smile. "So long as one of us stays awake. I'm not lookin' to be stranded twice in a day." He reached into his jacket for his cigarettes, put one to his own lips and extended the pack towards Vash. "Want one?" 

Vash smiled and shook his head. "I don't smoke. But thanks." It was nice to get the offer, knowing Wolfwood was broke and smoked with the determination of a genuine addict. 

Wolfwood put the match to his cigarette, closed his eyes as he drew on it, the tip glowing bright against the sky. "If I'd got trouble like yours, I'd smoke like a sand-steamer." 

"You do anyway," Vash said, aiming a quick, teasing grin. 

Wolfwood shrugged. "Everybody needs a vice. Good thing you drink, else I'd think you weren't human, with your reputation an' all." 

Vash straightened his head, looking away from Wolfwood at the stars. "You shouldn't believe everything you hear," he said. 

Wolfwood leaned over, sticking his face in Vash's line of sight. "I knew that much before I met you, asshole." He slid his elbow out from under him and lay back, head on his hands, mirroring Vash. 

"No need to be rude," said Vash, giving him a glare Wolfwood wasn't watching. The cigarette flared again, accentuating the angles of Wolfwood's face, orange cast planes and deepened shadow. The image faded as he watched, as Wolfwood exhaled a stream of smoke to be caught and dragged away by the wind, Wolfwood's face falling further into the night. 

He wondered if Wolfwood was planning to stick around town a while. From what he knew of Wolfwood's body, the man must look fantastic naked. 

Realistically, Wolfwood had hit on him because he wanted a passing fuck. But it was a nice thought, the image of Wolfwood stretched out along a bed, skin pulled taut over his muscles, all of him easily available to fingers and tongue. He'd keep that one in mind next time it was just him and his hand. 

He looked away from the man beside him, back to the stars that burned in swathes across the skies. He hoped he hadn't given Wolfwood too optimistic an idea of one night stands. The next lay he picked up might not be the same kind of experience. Might not be so damn lonely. 

He'd definitely started Wolfwood on bad habits by giving unprotected oral. Shit. 

Wolfwood's cigarette glowed at the edge of his vision, whispering crackle of burning leaves. 

"Sorry about the bare suck," he said. "I should've asked." 

"Huh?" 

Wolfwood's response was entirely predictable, and Vash was smiling slightly as he spoke again. "I take the risk. My life's kinda like that. Not everybody does." 

Wolfwood visibly considered that one before he answered. "S'okay. I'd've said if I minded." 

It was too good an opportunity. He didn't actually _expect_ fishing to get him anywhere, but it was worth a play – orgasm did funny things to some people's brains. "Your life like that too, huh?" 

The grin told him instantly no such luck with Wolfwood. "Nah. I just trust in the Lord." 

Vash snorted. "Maybe the Lord trusts you to use protection." He figured the kind of preacher who'd pick up a guy for a quickie wouldn't be the kind to take offence at a slight jab. 

"Maybe He does," Wolfwood said easily. "Or maybe He's just got His mind on bigger things." 

"Plenty around here to think on." 

"Yeah." Wolfwood pulled his hand from behind his head to brush his hair out of his eyes. 

Wolfwood didn't talk or act like any preacher Vash had ever met. But if he'd resisted getting laid until this late in life, there had to be something to it. Unless it was more lack of opportunity. 

He'd just come from a church orphanage, he'd said that. A few years in a seminary would explain more, though it was hard to imagine there weren't others even there who wouldn't have looked at Wolfwood and thought.... 

But the sheltered background theory just didn't _fit._ It didn't fit with the Wolfwood who saw the things no-one else saw, the way he moved like nothing was an effort for his body, with the smooth veneer of in-your-face irritating friendliness laid over someone else entirely. 

He wondered just how strong Wolfwood's faith was. He figured something must have happened, something that had shaken him, changed him, made him watchful and dangerous. 

The cigarette burned low now, its light close on Wolfwood's face, the line of his nose bright against the darkness. It was tempting to lean across and run his lips over his nose, but that would be getting too personal and make for an awkward moment. 

A lot about Wolfwood was tempting. If the bus wasn't waiting for them, Vash would've jerked him off later, taken the opportunity to just watch and see him respond. And part of it was because Wolfwood was hot, yeah, but part of it was just that it was hard to stop watching Wolfwood, and easier when he had an excuse. 

Wolfwood reached up to take the cigarette from his lips without opening his eyes, squashed the last of it into the sand beside him and settled back again. Without that watchful look, his face changed, the absence of lines suddenly obvious, surprising in someone who'd spent so many years under the suns. The watchful look that was somehow still there underneath when he played the idiot, that had only really disappeared before when he talked to the kids. 

Wolfwood seemed so old in some ways, and so very young in the occasional quick flash of something else. But Wolfwood wasn't the first he'd met on the planet with that dichotomy. 

Maybe everyone just seemed young to him. 

Vash wondered when his life had got so destitute that meeting one guy he couldn't instantly read would absorb him like this. He couldn't exactly call his life _dull_ on the whole, but it had been somewhat lacking in mental challenges lately. He grinned at his own idiocy. He had a feeling he'd find Wolfwood even more fascinating a year or so down the line. Given some experience to go with that confidence and attitude, Wolfwood was going to become quite something. He'd be a real fun challenge to fuck once the ground was a little more even. 

It might be worth looking him up. 

That thought made him a grin a little more. "Hey, Wolfwood." 

Wolfwood didn't turn to answer and his eyelids stayed closed, no giveaway flutter of reaction. 

Wolfwood was asleep. 

It was hard to believe he'd missed that, watching him all the while, but the man had been so comfortable, so casual the whole time he'd been smoking, the change had just slipped by him. 

It was the sex that did it, one of the side-effects of a good lay, but it felt nice all the same. To have someone simply relax around him, someone who knew. 

Vash wriggled himself a little deeper into the sand, shaping it to his body and settling back to track the movement of the moons across the sky. 

Looked like he was going to be the only passenger who didn't get any sleep again. Not that Wolfwood was going to get much - he'd have to wake him in less than an hour and go back to the bus. He'd have to do something with his hair before then too, if he didn't want to look so obviously like he'd been rolling around in the desert. 

Down low like this, the wind was muted, softened. He could hear Wolfwood breathe beside him. 

Vash felt the last of the tension drop from his muscles, from his mind. Wolfwood seemed willing to trust him. It was oddly easy to do the same.

*****

By the time they reached the outskirts of town, Vash was already getting some very bad vibes.

The bus rumbled and bumped through streets that were empty. Too empty. It was almost noon, and most people would normally be indoors, but there should be _someone_ \- kids, a drunk, a shopper late back from the store. 

Wolfwood's eyes watched alongside him, running over the length of the windows, slightly narrowed. 

As the bus shuddered to a halt at the main crossroads, Wolfwood was already standing, and he and Vash were there by the door when it opened with a soft hiss. Vash dropped casually down onto the step, scanning along the length of the street, his fingers curling by his hip. An instant later there was a footfall behind him, sharp smell of smoke and the brush of Wolfwood's shoulder against him. "That's strange." Wolfwood's voice was directed away from him, Wolfwood's body angled from his own as he watched the other way. 

"Huh?" Wolfwood knew. He knew, and somehow he was just sliding into place and working with Vash, an impossible feeling that only added to the stark unreality of this whole situation. 

Something about the town was so far wrong that the air slurred with it, thick and slow. 

"Isn't this place usually all lively an' stuff?" Wolfwood's words were pitch perfect. The others on the bus would have to notice, if they hadn't already, and Wolfwood said it so casual with a hint of curiosity, something to remark on in passing and then dismiss as unimportant. 

"Get a move on, grandmas! Everybody else wants off this bus." The driver's voice carried loud and harsh over the murmur of the passengers, over the silent heat of the street. 

Vash's eyes flicked sideways to Wolfwood, saw his own question in the man's mirroring expression over the shades. So neither of them had seen anything. 

He didn't doubt Wolfwood's assessment, and that was something else to take out and think on later. 

Vash jumped down onto the packed dirt of the street, turning to grin back at the driver. "Sorry! My legs stiffen up after all that sitting around, you know?" He felt Wolfwood behind him again, body still pre-taut, watching, and they eased further from the doorway as the rest of the passengers started dragging their bags from the bus. 

A flicker of movement at a window, footsteps and a few quick, quiet words from the building behind him. The people were here, but hiding. 

Hiding from something, someone. 

The mass of passengers milled around them, lots of low chatter, the quiet of the town somehow affecting everyone, difficult to disturb. 

"Mr Vash!" Milly appeared to be the single exception, her cheerful voice calling from by the door of the bus, waving at them. Meryl was no doubt right at her side, invisible in the crowd, as Milly pushed her way towards them through the people, a sweetly polite "Excuse me!" rolling non-stop from her lips. "We were worried you weren't going to wait for us!" she said, as she broke free of the crowd to stand beside him, Meryl practically glued to her as predicted. 

Movement seen behind her across the street, the slow shift of a window screen; people scared, but watching the disembarking passengers. Wondering what might happen to them. 

Movement felt behind him, Wolfwood drawing _away_, and he whipped around. 

Wolfwood was suddenly shaking his hand, all big easy smile, and saying, "Thanks, it was fun." Fun. Yeah. Yeah, it was. And Vash was standing with the girls and waving automatically and watching Wolfwood walk off along the street without saying a word. 

"What a strange guy," Meryl offered, succinct and accurate as ever. 

"Yeah," he answered, because she reacted badly being ignored, and he scanned over the buildings again, looking for the signs, where to start. 

He'd catch up with Wolfwood later. There was too much that intrigued him about the man to just let him leave. 

He wouldn't pass on another round of sex either, if it was on offer. 

But first he had to deal with whatever was going on in Jeneora Rock.

**Author's Note:**

> Re Jeneora/Geneora Rock: Dark Horse screwed up and used both spellings at different points in the translated manga. I've gone with Jeneora, which is the one used most often, and at the time of the actual incident. 
> 
> I realise this will make no sense at all to people who don't know the manga pretty thoroughly. So a few comments on timing. In TriMax 10, Wolfwood's narration says that it's six years since he left the orphanage. Two of those years are accounted for by the time Vash spent living as Eriks, another 7-8 months while Vash while was on Knives' Ark, and then there's all the other stuff they did together. So when Wolfwood and Vash met on the bus, it was at most three years since Wolfwood left the orphanage, at which time he looked about twelve years old.  
And then the Eye of Michael increased Wolfwood's rate of growth and physical aging to make him a better killer....


End file.
